


slow down, it's a science

by Kangoo



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, Getting Together, Multi, Useless Lesbians, it's an ensemble cast kinda thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: The first page is blank, save for a handful of heart doodled in the margins and four words written on the very first line, underlined twice.How To Ask Thyme OutSable chews on her pencil, thoughtful, and hums under her breath. Then, after a moment of reflection, she puts her pencil to the paper and notes underneath it,Without chickening out and running away and/or falling off the tower this time.
Relationships: Cayde-6/Male Guardian (Destiny), Female Guardian/Female Guardian (Destiny), Male Guardian/Male Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	slow down, it's a science

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BaronetCoins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronetCoins/gifts).



> For BaronetCoint, the coolest kid on the block, who answers all my weird questions about her ocs and let me ramble on endlessly about my own. Writing and screaming about destiny with you is always a gift, and I hope this story brings you as much joy as yours bring me
> 
> title from glass animals' 'black mambo'

It’s seven in the morning, a decent if early hour to be awake unless you haven’t gone to bed yet, in which case it’s a ridiculously late hour to still be fucking around in your lab. This happens to be where Sable is at, situation-wise.

On the worktable in front of her, between piles of lab equipment haphazardly shoved out of the way, sits a stack of blank lined paper. It’s the nice kind of paper, for the kind of Very Important Research that is unlikely to spill all over her notes.

The first page is blank, save for a handful of heart doodled in the margins and four words written on the very first line, underlined twice.

_How To Ask Thyme Out_

Sable chews on her pencil, thoughtful, and hums under her breath. Then, after a moment of reflection, she puts her pencil to the paper and notes underneath it,

_Without chickening out and running away and/or falling off the tower this time_.

Then she stares at it for some more time.

She gropes for her mug without tearing her eyes away from the page, takes a sip of it. It tastes like coffee... _kind of._ She tends to forget her mug isn’t empty when she refills it, so one can never truly be sure. Still the taste isn’t enough to deter her. She sips the liquid slowly, puts the mug down, grabs it again, takes a moment to realize it’s empty.

Alright.

There’s only so much she can distract herself with before admitting she doesn’t have a plan. 

She writes that down, because that’s how science works. 

This might require further research.

Worse: it might require… _field work_.

Sable isn’t usually one for field work. Why go run around the system when there’s so much to study right there in the City, and so many Guardians willing to bring back Hive parts and Vex milk and whatever else her experiments might require? 

Point is: field work isn’t her thing. But sometimes, one has to get her hands dirty in the name of science. 

Fortunately, she won’t be alone in this endeavor. She happens to know one very enthusiastic active Guardian — and if he could bring her back an entire _knight_ that one time she asked for a sample, she’s sure he’ll be more than happy to help her with this little project of hers.

-

Her first stop after a well-earned nap in a closet — the only part of her lab tidy enough to sleep in — is the hangar. If Razel is in the Tower, this is where she’s most likely to find him.

And indeed, she does. She finds him sitting on top of a ship Holliday is repairing, petting the chicken currently perched on his lap. He idly kicks his legs in the air, looking pretty bored until he sees her, at which point he breaks into a grin.

“Sable! Hi!” He waves her over and almost topples off his perch in his excitement. The chicken, somehow, sleeps through it all. It’s probably used to it, the poor thing. 

She hurries up to him, squashing down the slight embarrassment as heads turn to watch what all the noise is about, and gladly accepts the helping hand he offers her. It takes him little effort to hoist her up to his level, and the easy show of strength is as much a surprise as every other time she’s witnessed it. It’s more of a Titan thing, usually. Wonders what it means, that Warlock abilities come to him more naturally but he’s built like a Titan. Fights like one too from what she’s seen—

This isn’t why she’s here. Moving on. 

“Hey,” she says, and then, because it’s always easier to be simple and direct when dealing with Razel, “How do you ask someone out?”

He blinks, taken aback. “I don’t know. Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’ve been in a committed, loving relationship with someone else for some time, so you must have done _something_ right.”

He takes a moment to think about it, scratching his head with a thoughtful look on his face. His hair is a mess, most of it in the process of escaping the ponytail he’s tied it in and after a minute of her watching him like a hawk, waiting for a breakthrough, he tucks a loose strand behind his ear a little self-consciously. 

“I don’t know,” he repeats, almost apologetic. “He kinda did the asking out part.”

Oh, that would be so freaking efficient. “And did you do… anything specific to make that happen?”

“... No?”

It’s more likely he didn’t _notice_ anything specific that pushed Cayde to ask him out. But if her personal experience with him is anything to go by, it was probably a mix of ‘walking around shirtless because his way of life is inherently hostile to clothes’ and his sunny personality

Discreetly, she takes out her notepad and writes down,

> _Undress in front of her? Cons → potentially humiliating + public indecency, pros → efficient?_

“Maybe you should ask him, though.”

Razel’s voice pulls her from her thoughts, which have drifted to imagining what Thyme would look like if _she_ were to undress. She blushes, suddenly grateful that Razel can’t read her thoughts.

(He can’t, right? Light knows what the Awoken can and cannot do. But she’s pretty sure they’d know if he was a telepath.)

Then his words register, and she scoffs.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll manage.”

“I can even ask for you if you want!”

“I’d rather you didn’t, but it’s nice of you to offer. I don’t want to bother him.” 

There isn’t enough glimmer in the world to convince her to go to _Cayde_ for relationship advice. The guy’s almost a complete stranger to her, and she’s pretty sure his advice would amount to ‘just do it’ anyway. Also: there are only so many people she wants in on the secret that is her gigantic crush on Thyme.

Razel almost sounds disappointed when he says, “I don’t think Cayde would be bothered, but alright.”

Yeah, that’s what she’s worried about. If there’s one thing the Hunter Vanguard is known for, it’s being an inveterate gossip.

Cayde walks into the hangar just as she’s thinking that, as if summoned by the sound of his name. He’s holding a stack of papers in his hands — reports, maybe — and seems to be listening intently to what the Hunter walking at his side is saying, but his eyes gravitate to them as soon as he steps into the wide open area. He lights up, literally, when he finds Razel sitting there, and her friend does the same, though without quite so much actual glowing involved.

The poor Hunter is all but ignored as Cayde thrusts the papers in her arms and jogs up to them. So’s Sable: Razel only takes a second to dump the chicken in her lap before he jumps off, heedless of the height of his fall. 

Not that it matters. Cayde catches him before he can hit the ground and they both laugh, as if aware of how silly and sickeningly sweet they look from an outside perspective. Pretty sure they have no idea though. It’s like the world disappeared for a second when they collided, and they spin in place for a moment, forehead pressed together.

Sable wonders, with scientific curiosity, if Thyme would catch her as easily and naturally as Cayde does Razel. She’s an Exo and a Titan, she must be so strong—

She’s getting sidetracked again.

Razel finally gets his feet on the ground and uses this new situation to his advantage, leveraging Cayde off the ground and rubbing his face against Cayde’s like a giant over-affectionate cat.

It’s cute, but she’s gonna get cavities if she keeps looking at them.

She looks down, at the chicken in her lap which is currently standing stock-still, as if unsure how it got there and unhappy about that situation. It gives her a Look when she reaches for it. 

That’s a pretty sharp beak it got there, huh. Didn’t notice that before.

In the end she gingerly of pokes it until it jumps off her lap on its own, escaping with her fingers unpecked and her dignity somewhat intact. It can probably get off on its own with its wings. And the ship it’s perched on isn’t going anywhere anytime soon anyway, so even if it can’t it’s unlikely to still be on top when the thing flies off into space…

Hm. Wonders what would happen to a chicken thrust into the vacuum of space. 

-

That whole thing with Razel and Cayde did help, in a roundabout sort of way. It reminded Sable that there’s one Vanguard she can absolutely trust with her most important scientific endeavor to date:

Ikora Rey.

The reconstruction effort after the Red War has been a stressful time for all of them, the Vanguard most of all, but it’s been going smoothly enough those last few months that she should have some time for Sable. 

So she heads down to the bazaar and finds Ikora staring at the City sprawling under them, shoulders relaxed for the first time in… months, maybe.

It’s a nice sight. The City and Ikora both.

“What can I do for you, Warlock?”

Sable jumps a little. Somehow Ikora heard her coming through the noise of the bazaar, and she speaks up before even turning to face her.

“I, huh-” She sighs. This was easier to explain to Razel. Finally she settles on, “I need relationship advice.”

If Ikora is surprised, she doesn’t show it. Instead she smiles, amused but without judgement, and gestures to Sable to join her. They look over the City in silence while Sable tries to find a way to broach the subject.

“There’s this girl I like…” She trails off. 

“And you don’t know how to tell her?”

Damn, she _gets_ it. Truly, asking to Ikora for help is always a good idea.

“Exactly. It’s like, whenever I see her I just freeze up?”

“Ah.” Ikora nods wisely. “I know the feeling.”

“You… do?”

“Of course. I was young once too.” She shakes her head with a rueful look on her face. “And, to be honest, I’m not much better about it nowadays.”

That’s a surprise. Ikora just doesn’t seem like the kind to doubt anything she does. Sable leans against the desk, settles in for the long run.

“So you have a solution?”

“Unfortunately, no. I do not.” Sable makes a crestfallen sound and she gives her a soft look, understanding but firm. “There isn’t a magical word that will make her fall into your arms. You have to tell her how you feel. Maybe you could write her a note, if you’re too anxious to talk to her.”

Well that sounds like a lot of bullshit. Still, she writes it down.

> _Write a note (get it to her how? → messenger pigeons? Are any of the City pigeon trained to carry messages? **Requires further investigations**_ )

She wanders off away from Ikora without really noticing it, caught up as she is in her notes. There are a _lot_ of pigeons in the City, someone must have tried to train them before—

-

Three days later, she’s pulled out of a caffeine-fueled research binge on homing pigeons by a very concerned Flint.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

She glances at the pile of papers, all covered in illegible writing. Huh. She doesn’t… really… remember writing most of that, but by the amount she’s going to need a new pen. She’s also lost track of her notepad at some point, but that’s nothing a little search and upturning the whole place wouldn’t fix. She blinks, turns what to Flint.

“What?”

He glares. So that was a trick question. Then he grabs her shoulders, turns her around and marches her to a door, ignoring her protests. 

“You are going to shower,” he gripes, “And then we’re getting lunch. Understood?”

And then he shoves her into the next room. Guess she’s cleaning up in the safety shower station of the lab then. 

It doesn’t take long before she’s out again — the grime of three days spent bent over her notes doesn’t outweigh how damn unpleasant ice cold water feels. Flint is tapping his foot impatiently when she gets out anyway. She has a feeling he’s only doing it for show. He has that look in his eyes as he looks her over, more worry than annoyance. He cares, he just doesn’t know how to _show_ it.

“Let’s go,” he says, “Mint is waiting for us.”

Lunch with Flint and Mint is always a fun affair, if only because Mint always insist on paying and he lets her get as much waffle as she wants, even though that’s not exactly lunch food.

But the best part is watching them bicker. They’re cute together, like an old married couple. Flint always act like he doesn’t want to admit he likes Mint, or like he’s Too Cool to express his feelings, but the guy has such a besotted look on his face whenever he looks at his lover it’s obvious anyway. Mint, of course, takes full advantage of it, hanging off Flint like a clingy cuddlebug.

Teenagers, the both of them.

She shoves a piece of waffle into her mouth and chews slowly while Mint tries and fails to move all the vegetables on his plate to Flint’s, more as an exercise of stealth than a real desire to not eat his greens. Flint blocks his attempts with his fork absentmindedly, his attention focused on the notes he’s writing hurriedly. From where she’s sitting she can see equations surrounding geometric shapes she’s not sure are technically possible in a three-dimensional space. 

Looks like she wasn’t the only one who got dragged away from research to eat.

_Oh_. Research. Right.

She swallows her mouthful of waffles, almost chokes. Then, once she’s done coughing she asks, casual as you please, “How did you two meet anyway?”

Flint gives her a curious look. 

“What brings this up?”

But Mint doesn’t wait for an answer before launching into a story. “See, when I was a strapping young hunter and this man here was teaching Algebra in the Last City while getting his fifth degree in Mathematics-”

“I have _never_ been a teacher. And why would I need five degrees in the same field anyway-”

“- I took a bet that led me right into his lecture hall, and well, once I was there I couldn’t leave without giving my number to the beautiful man teaching the class-"

And Mint keeps going, spinning a story of him sweeping Flint off his feet while the man in question tries to focus on his work, cheeks darkening with a fierce blush.

"...I ended up almost entirely naked, covered in Vex milk, with Flint's number in my last pocket. And that's how we met!"

After a moment of silence to make sure he's done, Flint deadpans, "Wow. Impressive. Everything you just said was wrong."

But there's a smile on his face even as he says it, and he curls loose fingers around Mint's hand, just for the sake of touch. Then he turns inquisitive eyes on Sable, tilting his head just so. 

"What?" 

"Why do you ask?"

She pushes pieces of waffles around her plate, like little waffle-boats in a sea of syrup, and doesn’t look him in the eyes when she explains, "There's this girl I like, and I don't know how to tell her."

Flint hums thoughtfully and doesn't offer any advice, which she expected but is still slightly disappointed by. First Razel, now him – do people just stumble into relationships without ever thinking about it? Or is there a trick to it they simply don't want to share with her?

Then, out of the blue, he says, "Rocks."

"... Rocks?"

"I think I truly fell in love with Mint when he brought me a rare stone for my collection. It shows he _cares,_ you know? Maybe you should do the same thing."

The exo ducks his dead, flustered, vents whirring and internal light brightening in his own version of a blush. "Aw, darling, that's so sweet!'

Her fingers drum a staccato rhythm on the tabletop, longing for a pen to write this down. A shiver of light and one appears in her hand, Virgo bumping into her shoulder in silent greeting before disappearing again. She scratches messy notes on a napkin, unconcerned with making them legible.

“I don’t know if she likes rocks, though,” Sable muses aloud, writing, 

> _gifts → rocks?_

“Maybe something more universal then. Like flowers. Or a gun.”

“The gun _might_ make it look like a threat though.”

She writes it down anyway. Just in case. Then doodle a rose next to it, for good measure.

-

Sable sits in front of her notes and realizes that she still doesn’t have much to show for her efforts. She’s used to her projects taking a long time, but she never expected matters of the heart to require as much research work as one of her essays. She’s pretty sure growing a head of lettuce out of Hive organic matter took less time and effort than this.

It didn’t matter as much though. It feels like nothing really does. Like Thyme is everywhere, taking all the space in her mind, a mystery she can’t wait to unravel. And every big mystery requires research. Lots of it.

She steels herself, takes a sip of her coffee and resolves to look more deeply into it. Mint and Flint were a good start. They gave her something to try out, something tangible. Ikora and Razel didn’t, so she has a hunch that their usefulness has more to do with Mint’s patented Hunter Efficiency than anything else. This gives her a good starting point for the rest of her research.

Now, to find the right Hunter for the job—

-

Ayin gives her a long, deadpan look, waiting a moment for the absurdity of the question to register to Sable. When it doesn’t, and the young Warlock continues to stare up at her with expectant eyes, she tells her,

“You do know I’m aro and ace, right?”

Sable blinks owlishly before understanding dawns on her and she slaps her hands over her face, groaning.

“ _Right_. No dating.” Then, to herself, “That’s a possibility I didn’t think about.”

A minute passes with her muttering under her breath while Ayin watches, torn between amused and long-suffering.

“So… Do you need any help?”

“ _Yes._ Please.”

-

Ayin point her towards Samuel Ward, a Hunter mentor living near the Farm, in the EDZ. Sable only knows of him — she wasn’t brought back in the area, so she was mentored by someone else. But she’s heard good things about him. The man left a good impression on the Kinderguardians he taught, if nothing else.

How much a single, retired Guardian who owns twelve dogs can help her with her relationship troubles remains to be seen, but she has good hopes.

He doesn’t look up when she barges in into his kitchen, only points at the sink in a corner and says, gently but firmly, “Wash your hands.”

Her mouth closes with an audible _click_ and she obeys without complaints, swallowing her question. Better not antagonize the man she’s seeking answers from. Especially not one used to herding roady, newly-raised Guardians on the daily. 

Once she’s thoroughly cleaned her hands — and a good part of her forearms for good measure — she steps up to him, once again opening her mouth to ask him—

“Do you know how to cook?”

She flounders, taken by surprise. “I- no.”

He clicks his tongue, disapproving. “Your mentor fucked up on that one. That’s fine, you can learn. Take this.”

She takes the knife he hands her, then the sack of potatoes, growing more confused by the second. He takes a potato and, as if there’s nothing he wants more than to teach a random Warlock some basic cooking, shows her how to peel it. She imitates his movement, because she’s not sure she has a choice otherwise, and he corrects her hands quickly before nodding in approval and going back to the dough he’s kneading. 

Guess she’s on potato-peeling duty for the moment.

She’s slower than he was but he doesn’t seem to mind, and they work in silence until Sable has gone through the whole pile of potatoes. Then he throws them in a pot of water, and leans next to her while they wait for them to boil.

“So. You came her to talk?”

Thank the Light, she thought she was going to be stuck here forever, unable to ask her questions. She nods enthusiastically, eliciting a small laugh from him.

“Alright then. I’m listening.” 

She explains her situation, doing her best not to ramble, and even though he moves around as she does she knows his attention is entirely on her by the way he nods thoughtfully at all the right parts. 

“You’re really putting a lot of thought into this, huh,” He says once she’s done. 

He takes some kind of ham off a hook and slices a strip off it, offering it to her. She takes it gingerly, watches him cut another one and throw it to the dog she hadn’t even noticed napping in the corner. Finally he cuts some for himself and bites into it. She does so as well and finds herself surprised by the taste. Maybe she should ease off the waffles and instant noodles for a while, eat a real meal for once.

Maybe Thyme likes to cook…

“Food is a good way into someone’s heart,” he says, finally. “I don’t know anyone who doesn’t appreciate a good meal made by someone who cares about them.”

She glances at the pots and pans and winces. “Isn’t there… anything else?”

He shrugs. “Love, unfortunately, takes effort.”

Ugh. She gets it, but still. _Ugh_.

\- 

Hunters are as useless as the rest of them as it turns out. Bummer.

She sits on the roof of one of the Farm buildings afterwards, feet hanging off the edge, and eats the food Sam pressed into her hands as she was leaving. It’s really good, but now she yearns for a cold evening spent in her own apartment, watching Thyme move through her kitchen, making them dinner…

Saying she has it bad would be an understatement.

That’s how Hawthorne finds her. Staring sadly at her plate. Contemplating the inatteignable joy of domesticity.

“Damn. I never saw someone react _that_ badly to Sam’s cooking. You alright kid?”

Sable stuffs the pierogi in her mouth and mumbles a lukewarm agreement around a mouthful of cheese and potatoes. The list of well-meaning friends and acquaintances aware of her situation is growing at a worrying speed, and she’s not sure she wants to add to it yet. Peer reviews are all well and good, but there’s a point at which she must admit dating is _nowhere_ close to a science.

Despite her very convincing reply Hawthorne still sits down next to her. “Huh-huh. Sure. Wanna talk about it?”

Sable makes a _so-so_ kinda noise, swallows the last of her food and says, “I yearn.”

“You yearn?”

“You could even say I pine.”

“Pining, you say.”

“Yes. For a girl.”

“Aaahh.” Hawthorne mutters something along the lines of ‘Guardians, I swear’.

“She’s just so _pretty_ , and _nice_ , and _badass_ , and-” Sable sighs, frustrated. “I have no idea how to make her like me!”

Hawthorne makes another _ah_ , understanding but no more helpful than the previous guys. Sable grumbles as such, which gets a laugh out of the older woman.

“How many Guardians does it take to ask _one_ woman out?”

“I’d like to see _you_ try.”

“Do you really want me to go ask your girl out?” She chuckles at Sables’ hurried headshake. “Joke aside, I’ll have you know I had my fair share of dates in the past.”

That’s a _great_ news. Finally, someone who knows what they’re doing. Sable all but whirls around, pinning Hawthorne down with a hopeful stare, and takes her hands between her own.

“How did you do it?”

Strangely, Hawthorne looks bemused at that, then awkward, freeing herself from Sable’s grasp to pat her on the shoulder comfortingly.

“Paid their bail, mostly. But you don’t look like you get up to a lot of misdemeanors, kid, so… better find something else to woo her with, huh.”

And she leaves her with that wise advice, fleeing the scene to go play with her bird or whatever else she does in her free time, poncho swaying in her wake.

Hunters. Useless, the lot of them.

-

“Wow, Sable, you look terri- I mean, tired. You look tired,” says a familiar voice.

On autopilot, because that’s something she hears a lot, Sable retorts, “Science never sleeps.” Then it hits her this voice is a little _too_ familiar, and a little too sweet, and a _lot_ like Thyme’s, and she gives herself a quiet second to freak out before she turns around and offers the beautiful other woman an awkward smile. 

Thankfully Thyme only laughs, nodding slightly. “Yes, I can see that. Anything I can do to help?”

Oh god. Oh fuck. She cannot, under any circumstances, learn that Sable has been running around asking people how to woo her. She would _die_ if Thyme knew. Hell, she’d dig the grave herself.

She waves her hands and stammers, “N-no! No, it’s fine, I was just, huh-” She glances around in a panic, catches sight of the stairs going down to the lower levels of the Tower. “Going to ask Drifter for some info! Right! That’s exactly what I was doing. Nothing else.”

“Oh. Great, so was I! Well, not the info part, but-” Thyme rubs her neck, coughing slightly. “Point is, I’m heading down too. Wanna walk together, maybe? No pressure or any-”

“ _Yes_. Absolutely. Let’s… go do that.”

They stand still for a moment, waiting for the other to move, Sable silently screaming at the unexpected turn of events, before Thyme offers her a smile — is that what it means when Exo’s lights brighten like that? She’s hoping it is — and starts walking, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Sable is following her.

The Drifter is alone when they enter his lair, which is a small mercy. Thyme strides up to him and hands him a plastic bag without ceremony, giving him a weirdly intricate handshake with her other hand. Sable watches them, transfixed, wondering how she missed the bag Thyme has apparently been carrying all this time or when the two found the time to come up with such a ridiculous way to say hello to each other.

Is this what it’s like to be close to Thyme? It looks nice, really nice, but Sable is suddenly filled with the overwhelming anxious thought that she’ll never be able to remember a handshake like this one. Is this going to be a dealbreaker? Should she start to practice right now? 

“I’m gonna leave you two to talk,” Thyme says, shocking Sable out of her thoughts. “There’s a Crucible game starting in half an hour and I plan on being in it. See you around, Sable!”

“And what am I, chopped liver?” The Drifter shakes his head as Thyme walks out of the room, waving. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome!”

Sable waits for the sound of her footsteps to fade, taking the time to mourn the fact that it’s one Crucible match in which Thyme fights that she won’t be able to watch live. Fortunately there are always recordings of the Crucible floating around the Tower network, shouldn’t take her too long to find them.

Once she’s sure the other woman is out of earshot she turns to Drifter, who watches her cautiously, and says in a rush, “ _She’s so cute_ _what do I do_.”

He looks at her, caution quickly turning to confusion. “How would I know?”

“You’re her friend!”

He reaches into the bag, takes out a takeout box and rips it open before digging into it with a fork abandoned on a nearby worktable. “Exactly. I ain’t trying to sleep with her.”

She covers her face with her hands and screams. Quietly.

-

Zavala is always so professional, so sure of everything he does, that when she slinks past him her first impulse is to go ask for his advice. After all, he’s a Titan. They got to have a similar mindset when it comes to dating, right?

So she does. He’s the Commander. It’s his job to help, after all. And she’s pretty sure she already hit rock bottom dignity-wise, so.

Although in hindsight, maybe she should have approached the subject with more tact.

“How do I ask a Titan out?”

The poor man almost startles right out of his armor. Whatever he was expecting her to say, that’s not it. 

“Well- Listen, Guardian, I’m flattered, but as your Commander it wouldn’t be proper to-”

“No, not _you_!” She snaps her mouth closed, wincing. That was rude.

Zavala only looks relieved, shoulders dropping as a sigh escapes him. “Oh. Good. Good.” He clears his throat a little awkwardly and draws himself straight again, giving her a serious look. “As for your question- the only way you can be worthy of someone’s love is by being good to them, _for_ them. Be your best self, and I’m sure this person will see your worth and come to you.”

(She runs away before he can work himself into a full lecture. Maybe she’ll have better luck with someone who actually date people.)

-

She doesn’t have to run far.

Shaxx is only a few yards away, after all, and if there’s anyone with an active dating life in this city, it’s him.

He’s also a bit intimidating, but to hell with that. There is love on the line. Love! And _science_.

He immediately turns to her when she approaches, faceless mask fixated on her with a laser focus that almost makes her uncomfortable. “Why hello there, Warlock. Come to test your strength in the Crucible?”

“Huh, no. Sorry?”

He shakes his head, disappointed. It’s impressive how much emotion he can put into movements to make up for his lack of facial expression. He makes it look so natural and effortless, Sable kind of forgets she can’t actually look at his face until she tries and only finds the familiar sight of his helmet.

“Better that than half-assing it. No matter! You can always double your efforts next time you come to fight. What can I do for you?”

She draws a breath, suddenly awkward and unsure why until she remembers she’s here to ask him about his sex life. No matter how freely he’s talked about it in the past it still feels weird to actually ask about it. At least without any alcohol between the two of them.

“So, huh-” She clears her throat. “Cute girl. How do I- You know.” she makes a vague gesture with her hand, hoping it conveys what she’s trying to say. Then, suddenly terrified of what meaning Shaxx might attribute to said gesture, she adds in a hurry, “Convince her to go out with me?”

“You don’t!” The sudden volume of his voice makes her jump, and the squeak she makes is closer to _rodent_ than _person_. He goes on, ignoring her spooked reaction. “ _Never_ convince someone to date you. She doesn’t need to be _convinced_ that it’s worth it, she needs to see it by herself!”

In a small voice, she replies, “How do I do that though?”

“You earn her appreciation in the fire of battle, of course! Impress her!”

“I don’t… really… go out in the field, though. Or fight much at all,” she hazards.

His hand falls on her shoulder with enough force to push her an inch into the ground, or so it feels. His helmet comes closer to her face, staring into her soul with the intensity of a whole sun.

“ _Then I guess you’ll have to start_ ,” he says, enunciating each word in a way that somehow conveys the fact that the Crucible would be the best place for her to do just that.

This time, when she runs away, it’s literal. His laughs feels like it’s going to chase her right into her nightmares.

-

Wwhen she holes up in her lab, still panting from dashing all the way from the top of the Tower, she decides, _fuck it_.

That’s enough research for now. Unless everything else fails she’s _not_ subjecting herself to another mortifying conversation with someone who only has the vaguest possible grasp on the subject of love, dating, relationships, or women. And if all other options fail her so spectacularly that she needs more outside opinions, then she might as well give this whole thing up, because clearly it’s never getting any better.

Resolute, Sable takes out her notepad, once again reading through the notes she took during her… interviews.

> _Sexuality → attracted to women? Attracted to people at all? I hope so…_
> 
> _Food! ~~Learn to cook~~ find best take-out places in the City. **ask Razel**_
> 
> **__** _Do something for her? → Bail her out? **Waiting for Thyme to commit a crime = harder than asking her out** ~~Better: get her to bail me out~~ crime is bad_
> 
> _Good → adj. Of a high quality or standard. Am I high quality? ** ~~Find how to define quality of sentient being~~ **nvmd. Virgo says I’m good. Find if good enough for Thyme → find goodness threshold necessary for dating_
> 
> _Crucible? (addendum: is this Shaxx’s solution to everything? Sources point to yes. I’m sources.) **How to earn appreciation** → do something impressive. Already has degrees + published essays. Try prize?_

Hey, that’s not so bad, actually. She might be able to do something will this.

She stares at the notes for a good, long while, before it dawns on her. Yes, there _is_ something she can try — and that’s _all of it_. One after the other until something sticks.

It’s brilliant. It’s genius. It _has_ to work.

Sables tears the pages out and stuffs them in her pocket, mind racing. Now, where is she going to find a carrier pigeon...

-

Four in the afternoon is a terrible hour to wake up at, and an even worse one to go to bed. Fortunately, that’s not Sable’s case. She’s actually been awake for a while, doing nothing of great importance like testing their bread loaf for sentience and being unsurprised but still disappointed by the results. 

On the coffee table in front of her sits a stack of blank lined paper. The nice kind, for the Very Important Research, the kind she’s going to be staring at for a very long time.

She glances towards the kitchen. She can hear Thyme fixing herself a cup of tea, so she has a little time before her girlfriend comes into the room. She sets her pen to paper and write, in her best handwriting,

_How To Propose To Thyme._

Thyme’s voice rings out in the quiet afternoon. “Sugar?”

She throws herself on top of her notes, as if Thyme were able to read the words on it from the other side of the apartment. Casually, she replies, “Yes?”

A quiet laugh. “No, I mean- in your tea. Do you want sugar?” 

“Oh, huh- yes. Please. Thanks.”

She chuckles again, softly, and doesn’t say anything else.

Another glance to the kitchen door, to make sure she’s staying put. It’s left ajar, sunlight streaming through the crack, and she can see Thyme from where she’s sitting. She’s standing in front of the window, staring at the sunlit City while idly stirring her tea with a spoon. 

Quietly, Sable adds underneath the title,

_When you already have the ring, but you want it to be an awesome surprise._

Perfect. Now she just needs some outside opinions— 

Well, in hindsight, not too many of these. Maybe she’ll just ask how Razel and Cayde did it. That should work out fine.


End file.
